Jacintha Potter and the Glorified Sippy Cup
by Lady Jade Scribbler
Summary: Shock shock, surprise surprise. Jacintha isn't exactly happy to hear that her name has been barfed up by a glorified sippy cup. How will the GWL react? Read this tale in her own snarky point of view and see as she unveils her true self. Fem Harry!


A/N:

Hi, everybody! I really hope you like this story that I've cooked up. I know, I know, I have SO many different WIP'S that it's not funny. I am currently doing a major overhaul of The Outcasts Who Lived and am facing a bit of writer's block on I Always Did Like Wolves And Bloodpops & Twin Swans. Plus, I am just finishing up my third year at college (or university so as not to confuse you non-Americans out there,) so I have barely had any time to read, let alone write, fanfiction. Anyway, as for my other stories... I plan on taking all but Thirteen & Charmed Life down and being rid of them as they totally suck.

In this story, I venture into the rather cliched Harry does the TWT differently and Dumbles is a complete bastard. But I hope that my little twists which I have added, including Harry's female-ness, make this worth reading. I plan on having a chapter per task and including the Yule Ball in task 2's chapter. Though this story will be done at the end of fourth year, it is my intent to write a sequel which takes place several years down the road. And that is where you come in. I am really thinking about making the sequel a crossover, though I don't know what of. Two of the top contenders are Bones and NCIS. I will NOT be making this into another Twilight crossover. If there is a show, book, etc that you would like the sequel to cross over with, do let me know. I accept reviews, both signed and anonymous, and I can get PM'S. If you would like my email, ask me as I will not print it here.

I feel I must make a few apologies here. Firstly, I hope it doesn't irk anybody too much that this new female Harry, yet again, is a red-head. I know that pretty much all my female Harry stories feature a read-haired version with her mother's eyes. I have some unpublished WIP's where my female Harry has black hair but they are not ready to be uploaded. Other than her hair and eyes, the female Harry in this story looks much like her father and her hair is such a dark red as to appear black in low lighting. I know that this isn't exactly important but I figured I would address this as it even annoys me how she always seems to end up with red hair. I also apologize if the title is a bit silly; I couldn't help myself. Also, I am really sorry for this long A/N and I will probably delete most of it when I have the time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Jacie Potter and the Glorified Sippy Cup

Chapter One: Plans and Preparations

"What are you waiting for? Get up there, Jacintha." Hermione Granger hissed in my ear as the headmaster called my name for the third time in a row. It was Halloween night and, shock of all the most shocking of shocks, I found myself in another situation that left me hating the day more than I did the year before. My name had just come out of the Goblet of Fire, marking me as a fourth contestant and I was _FURIOUS._ Clenching my fists, I swung myself over the bench and stood up. As I walked down the isle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, many students from all three schools started to boo, jeer, and hiss at me.

"She's a cheat!" shouted a Ravenclaw furiously.

"Attention whore!" a Slytherin spat.

"Ve vill not stand for this!" a Durmstrang girl snarled.

"What ees zis? Merd!" a Beauxbatons boy cursed.

"Traitor!" Ron shouted from behind me.

"Glory hound!" Ernie McMillan, one of my classmates, snarled as I passed him. With a great hack and cough, he went so far as to hoc a loogie on my shoes. I grimaced in disgust. Didn't the sheeple that made up the wizarding populace have better things to do than jump to conclusions? How the hell could a fourteen-year-old girl, Muggle-raised as I am, possibly hoodwink an ancient magical artifact into spewing, pun intended, my name as a fourth champion? It's not like I even act as smart as I really am. If I'd shown my potential, then sure. Maybe I might fall under some sort of suspicion. But that wasn't the case. Save for my inevitable exploits, also known as Dumbles's little tests, at the end of each year I've quite easily fallen into the bracket of mediocrity. It wasn't like this place mattered much. Most of the western European magic schools, except Beauxbatons that is, were the world's shittiest and Hogwarts was the dungheap of all dungheaps as far as I was concerned. It had been great, once, until idiots like Fudge-For-Brains and Fumble-Dick took over. And as sad as it was to see the place decaying, figuratively of course, it wasn't my job to help save it.

If you're reading this, you might be wondering how the hell I could be so different. Wasn't I a poor, sweet, naive, abused little thing? Eeeeerrrrrttttt, wrong answer! The entire Harry Potter series? An almost complete fabrication. First off, I'm a _GIRL_ for the love of God. I'm a bit of a tomboy, play sports, and kept my hair short until I turned fourteen. What of it? And _HARRY?_ The author did get it write when she made my aunt state it's a nasty, common name. I guess it could suit some old, _hairy_ bloke, but not me... even if I _WERE_ male. My name's Jacintha Lily Potter. Most people call me Jacie. And don't you forget it!

The author of the Harry Potter series _did_ get a lot of the facts right, I grudgingly admit. That is, of course, only up to a point. You wonder about my house, don't you? My friends? My aunt and uncle? I should be a good little authoress and make you read, suspended, as all the puzzle pieces click into place. But I'm not _that_ evil... or that subtle. I can throw you at least a bone or two.

It's true that I _was_ a Gryffindor. And my friendship with the Weasleys wasn't a fabrication on my part. I wasn't as tight with Ron as my male counterpart is portrayed in the books but he was still a good enough friend to shoot the breeze with. It really hurt when I found out his motives behind why he became friends with me. And Hermione? She had the tendency to rub me the wrong way and that's what almost ruined our friendship. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

What about the twins, Neville, Ginny, and Luna? Well... they call the twins the "twisted twins" and the "demonic duo" for a reason. Some of their pranks are just cruel. My father and his Marauders might have pulled some pretty nasty pranks but those were only pulled out for the students who had already taken the dark mark or were as good as Death Eaters. And that werewolf prank? It never happened. I mean come on. Do you _really_ think that Sirius would be able to pull that shit and _not_ get expelled? And do you _really_ believe Remus would face no repercussions, no matter whether he did or didn't attack anyone? I wouldn't give the twins a thousand galleons if my life depended on it.

What about Neville and Luna, you ask? Those two are my very best friends. Neville has been since first year and Luna since second. Neville might have had a slightly low self-esteem but he wasn't nearly as sad as he was portrayed in those books. I'd say more about Neville but I might get way ahead of myself and not be able to hold my tongue. Luna is my best non-related female friend. Yes, she was bullied quite a bit by her housemates. That was, of course, until I hexed them into the hospital wing. She's not nearly as nutty as she's made out to be in those books. She simply sees things differently. She was very sad and introverted when I first met her as her mother had died less than two years ago. But she's much more lively now.

Last, and certainly not least, there's Ginny. Blergh... I shudder at the thought of the girl. She's a squeaky, blushing, stalking little fangirl and we were _NEVER_ friends. Sure, I tried to be nice to her in her first year, and then I saved her stupid arse, but that's it. She's just... disturbing. and she's always studying things like poly-juice, glamours, and gender-bending hexes and potions. I've got nothing against lesbians or bisexuals, of which Ginny is one or the other, don't get me wrong. My favourite hairdresser is flamboyantly gay and my Aunt Marge, well really she's my cousin's aunt, fancies women. And I love them both to death. Lewis is a complete riot and probably one of the most sensitive men you'll ever meet. And Aunt Marge? She gave me a puppy for my eleventh birthday. Need I say more? It's just that... well... the Weasley girl is really disturbing. If she were male, I wouldn't feel any different about her. She's the one who basically wrote the series. She planted a detailed outline in the mind of a poor Muggle woman, Joanne Rowling, and let her roll with it. I didn't ever stop the books from being published because it's not like it did any real harm. If anything, Ginevra helped hide our world better. Even with so many accurate points, such as the Leaky Cauldron, Muggles and their children would only think it fiction. The Muggles don't know anything about me and the wizards know the truth. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Since I'm talking about friends, you surely are pondering whether I have any others? The answer, simply, is yes. Malfoy is as much of a git as he always was and Crabbe and Goyle are still blockheads. But little Gin-Gin wrote Pansy all wrong in her outline so, as a consequence, Rowling didn't portray her in a favourable light throughout the books. I mean she's my _cousin_ for the love of God. That's right, she is my blood. You see, Aunt Petunia was with Mum one day in mid November of 1979. Voldemort and his bastard Death Eaters had decided to attack. They got one up on Mum when she turned away from her own fight to protect her nonmagical sister. The fuckers had them captive for three weeks. Everyone from that time period knows, but never talks about, what happens to women when they're captured by the white-masked terrors. If you've got Weasley-itus and are as thick as a wall of bricks, let me spell it out for you, as much as I don't want to. They were _raped._ Not just once but multiple times.

Unlike many other women who pass through many Death Eater hands, they happened to be the "favourites" of two of them. Lucius Malfoy used my mother as his own personal sex toy and I will _NEVER_ forgive _or_ forget. At the time, the blood purest courts said that there was "no proof" and that "surely these women must be mistaken. They are, of course, of inferior stock." and then, at the end of the war, Malfoy was able to get on his imperius bullshit. The courts forgot the fact that, just two years before, he had been charged with raping my, the girl-who-lived's, mother.

Luckily for my mother, though she didn't know this yet, she was already pregnant with me and no other eggs awaited Malfoy's vile, runny sperm. But Aunt Petunia wasn't so lucky. She had just been through her cycle and her body had released _two_ eggs. One of them had been fertilised sometime in the two days before the attack. But the other still lingered, waiting to be fertilised or dissolved. It was fertilised, all right, but not by Uncle Vernon's doing. And so we have twins.

Dudley Dursley is the oldest, the son of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Pansy was born last, the daughter of Aunt Petunia and Paul Parkinson. She's gone by Dursley all her life, wanting nothing to do with her mother's violator and torturer. But due to the fact that Paul Parkinson and his family had all been wiped out by the close of 1981, she was forced by archaic wizarding laws to take the Parkinson name in order to restore the family line.

I'm rambling again, aren't I? Whoops! Well, there's Pansy, my cousin. She's blunt on the outside but more devious than people give her credit for. Why else would she be in Slytherin? Sometimes, she can be insensitive but she's nothing compared to Ron Weasley or Draco Malfoy. And no, she doesn't have a pug face. She looks almost exactly like her mother, blue-green eyes and all, but with dark brown hair. Also, like Aunt Petunia, she has the unfortunate trait of a slightly wide nose that's turned up a tad at the end. Her best, and almost only, friend in Slytherin is Blaise Zabini. He's an Italian boy with six older sisters and six younger ones. His mother's been married 7 times. he's the wisecracker of the group and a lot of fun to hang around. I knew back then that he and Pansy liked each other but I didn't say anything.

Now, onto my aunt and uncle. Didn't they abuse and mistreat me? Lock me in a cupboard? _HA!_ They raised the three of us with equal love even though I was their niece and Pansy was a byproduct of a wizard rape. They instilled us with good morals and a healthy suspicion for the government. They're the parents I never had, though I still call them aunt and uncle. And as for Privet Drive? Bah. The town of "Little Whinging" doesn't even exist and ickle Ginnykins would know that if she was even slightly competent. The Muggle who wrote the books came up with her own excuses for why she came up with the place and that was good enough for her and her readers. Anyway, the three of us grew up in the Evans family home in Yorkshire. My aunt and mother grew up in that house as well, as did five generations before them.

So why am I starting my story during the drawing of the champions? Because that's where everything begins to change. This is where you can easily discard Rowling's billion-pound stories, and Ginevra's well-paying outlines, for what they are: rubbish. I say well-paying, of course, because she enjoys dipping into Rowling's auxiliary accounts to keep her life cushy. So I guess I'll get back to the point where I'd stopped my narration.

If you'll remember, Ernie McMillan had hacked a globule of saliva on my shoes which I was understandably pissed off at. Those shoes were almost new, damn it, and I'd just cleaned them up a few days ago. But I did nothing but shoot the fickle puffster a filthy glare. The kid gloves were off and I, Jacintha Lily Potter, would no longer hide. This was the last straw. With my head up and shoulders back, I continued my walk to the front of the hall. Pansy, Blaise, Neville, and Luna all shot me encouraging looks. I knew then I would be doing the right thing and that my uncle, aunt, and Dudley would agree. As I reached the front of the hall, I looked at the headmaster.

"I suggest you follow the others, Miss Potter." he said cooly. I rolled my eyes internally. Surely he must know what's going on?

"Before I do, sir, I would like to address the student populace." I said smoothly.

"Typical Potter, begging for attention as usual." Snape sneered. I rolled my eyes again, this time in reality. Sev certainly played his part well, acting as the spiteful, Potter-hating potions master. He's still a snarky git, as he is in the books, but he's a snarky git that's on _my_ side. He's been mine and Pansy's go-between since first year. A Gryffindor and Slytherin couldn't exactly be seen talking or it, stupidly enough, would raise questions. Few outside the headmaster and heads of houses knew that Pansy and I are cousins. Since she was sorted, she began getting chummy with Malfoy and his ilk so she could relay what they were up to. Most of them were too stupid to realise that Paul Parkinson had no wife when he died so Pansy must be the result of a rape or affair of some sort. I had the feeling that Pansy would also stop hiding herself.

"Now now, Severus. I believe that a few words couldn't hurt." Dumbledore said in a saccharine voice.

"I disagree. The girl is at risk out in the open like this. We should get her in with the others as soon as possible." Moody growled. I frowned at him; something about the bloke was terribly off, though I didn't know what.

"Let the girl speak, you silly man." Crouch cut in, Moody glowered. Dumbledore nodded and so, taking a breath, I turned towards the booing and hissing students. Casting a sonorus on myself, I shouted to get their attention.

"_SIIIIILEEEEENCE!"_ a mass of heads jerked around to stare at me with open mouths and wide eyes.

"Thanks for that." I said sarcastically. "Before I go in with all the other so-called champions, I wanted to say a little something."

"You mean how you managed to cheat, Potter?" Ron demanded.

"Or how much a glory hog you really are?" McMillan snarled.

"I bet you won't last two seconds!" Malfoy crowed, his goons guffawing along with him.

"All of you just _SHUT_ _IT!"_ I roared the last part. "You all disgust me, you know that? You put me on a pedestal as some sort of hero and then, when I don't quite measure up somehow, you find some way to shun me. Does the heir of Slytherin nonsense ring a bell? Don't even justify your actions. With few exceptions, you're all pathetic. You're more fickle than the stock market, more wishy-washy than a washing machine, and you swing back and forth in your opinions more than a child on a swing set does. I shouldn't be having to justify myself to you imbeciles but I should make an oath..."

"Now now, my girl, I don't believe that will be necessary." Dumbledore cut in before I could start. I knew he would, I just _KNEW_ it. Stupid, meddling old geezer.

"Your opinion is irrelevant in this situation, _Headmaster."_ I stated, rolling his title off my tongue with a sarcastic edge.

"As I am the headmaster..." he started.

"Do let the girl give her oath, sir. I can't see what it would hurt." Ludo Bagman cut in.

"Thank you. As I was saying, I _should_ make an oath. But I won't. You balking bunch of butt-scratching, poop-slinging baboons aren't worth my time. You'll believe whatever you like no matter if I make oaths until I'm blue in the face. I'll tell you this right now: I did _NOT_ put my name or have anybody else put my name in the flaming shot glass. I'll compete in this asinine tournament because I'm not stupid enough to forget that the glorified sippy cup constitutes an iron-clad magical contract, no matter if the names it belches are of willing or unwilling participants. Enjoy the show, arseholes." I drawled coldly. Then, with a wicked smirk, I cast the quietus spell on myself, gave those morons the bird, and sharply about-faced, my curtain of dark red hair whipping about as I did so. With even, measured strides, I walked across the front of the hall and entered the antechamber which currently contained the other three champions.

"I'm guessing you heard that?" I grinned, throwing myself into an armchair and dangling my legs over one arm.

"Zat was... 'ow to put zis... awe-inspiring." the only other female, a silvery blonde named Fleur, breathed.

"Huh?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"We French 'av been wanting to put ze British wizards in zere place for years but we 'av not 'ad the opportunity to do so. Zough you did not make ze oath, I feel zat your leetle speech ees much more powerful a statement of your eennocence. You 'av gone from an empty 'eaded leetle girl 'oo was the result of coincidence to someone 'oo can back zere legend up in ze eyes of many of my countrymen, I am certain."

"I... erm... merci beaucoup. Fleur, oui?" she nodded. I grinned at her.

"Bloody hell, Jacie. That was... well... really unexpected. No offense but... well... I thought Quidditch was..." Cedric diggory cut off. He was one of the only Hufflepuffs who'd believed me in second year so, for now, he was in my good books. He was just too polite to say that I had been drowning in mediocrity until my well-executed move out there.

"The only thing I'm good at? I guess I'm a bit of a chimera, really. That's all I'll say." I responded.

"That's fine. I just wanted to let you know that I believe you. You've always been honest; why would you stop now?" he asked. I simply shot him a smile. Krum said nothing, he simply glowered. He was probably bitter that I had "stolen" some of his beloved attention. All those gits in the great hall called me a glory hog but if a picture to describe the word was to be put in the Concise Oxford Dictionary or Marian Webster's, Krum's face would be in it.

Three quarters of an hour later, I was finally allowed to go back to my dorm after we _champions_ had been given the date of the first task. I had to take some time to relax and write my family. They'd be pissed if they heard about this rubbish from Pansy or the Daily Profit before hearing it from me. I'd also have to remember to mirror-call Sirius. Unlike what the books narrated, Sirius didn't spend all his time in a cave outside Hogsmeade or roaming the Emerald Isle's countryside. He was granted asylum after being given a proper trial by the American Bureau of Magical Affairs, (ABMA), and was currently travelling the country.

As soon as I entered the Gryffindor common room, I was met with a variety of reactions. Many were happy, though most were hostile. Neville just looked worried.

"How did you do it, oh great one?" the twins demanded in creepy unison.

"I didn't do a damn thing." I snapped.

"You can at _least_ tell us, Jacintha. We're your housemates, after all." Angelina Johnson cut in.

"I just said... whatever. I don't have to explain myself to any of you."

"Of course you don't. Perfect Princess Potter, right? You _NEVER_ have to account for your actions, do you?" Ron sneered. I turned towards him, shocked. Sure, I knew that he could be a bit of a jealous arse sometimes but he was my friend... right?

"Come on, Ron, you're being ridiculous." I said.

"Oh, _I'M_ being ridiculous? _ME?"_ he yelled, his freckled face growing red in rage. "_YOU'RE_ the ridiculous one, _POTTER._ You could have at _LEAST_ told your best mate that you were entering, couldn't you? You could've helped me, too. You just had to take away what _I_ wanted."

"I didn't "take away" shit, Ronald Bilius Weasley. I shouldn't have to explain myself to you." I responded, clenching my fists. I'd had just about enough and was about to blow my top. But I couldn't afford to let that happen now. I would vent to Sirius later, and tomorrow I would have the chance to meet with Neville, Luna, and Pansy.

"You're a lying, attention-seeking bint, Jacintha Potter. Consider this friendship _over."_ Ron snarled, getting right in my face. His words hurt more than I was willing to show. He wasn't my _best_ friend, as he seemed to think, but he _was_ my friend and I had grown rather fond of the lummox.

"Whatever, Ronald. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed." I said flatly, maneuvering my way past his taller, lankier form.

"You could at _least_ tell us how you did it." Lee Jordan begged as my right foot hit the first step to the dorms. I pivoted the rest of the way onto the step and faced the common room.

"Read my lips, the lot of you, because I'm only going to say this once. _ I. DID. NOT. ENTER. MY. NAME!"_ the words came out cool and measured though I was tense and my fists were still clenched. With that said, I turned sharply and stalked up the spiral staircase at a fast walk.

"It's only logical, I suppose." came Hermione's self-assured voice as I threw myself onto my four-poster bed which sat directly across from hers.

"What is?" I asked her warily.

"Your little ploy out in the great hall, of course. You acted like you would swear an oath if everyone wasn't out to get you to make yourself seem more innocent. Nobody called your bluff so you didn't have to swear the oath and lose your magic."

"Oh no. You too, Hermione? Don't tell me that _you_ of all people believe all this rubbish? I'll only say this again because you're my friend: I did _NOT_ enter my name into that loathsome, glorified sippy cup." I said fiercely. For all her pretentious, pompous attitude, I really thought Hermione was smarter than that. But she still needed to do some growing up, despite being more than ten months older than me.

"Swear it, then." she demanded.

"Huh?" I asked while knowing perfectly well what she wanted.

"Swear the oath that you didn't enter. there should be no problem doing it just for me. I _am_ your friend, after all. It's only right." she stated. I scowled but nodded anyway. Maybe this would give little miss priss a bit of a wake-up call. Holly wand in hand, I intoned my oath.

"I, Jacintha Lily Evans-Potter, born July 31, 1981 to Lily Rose Evans-Potter and James Charlus Potter, do so swear on my life, magic, and the foundations of Hogwarts herself that the following statements are absolutely, without a doubt, irrefutably, 100% true. Firstly, I did not in any way, shape, or form enter myself into the competition known as the Triwizard Tournament. I asked nobody else to enter my name in my stead and I did not use any other means to do so. I also had, and still have, no desire whatsoever to compete, though I shall do so as I am well aware that the Goblet of Fire constitutes an iron-clad magical contract for anybody it chooses, no matter whether they were entered of their own free will or not. So mote it be!" my wand flashed white and the lite spread to encompass me before fading. I cast a switching spell on my robes and the pair of pajamas which were laid out at the end of my bed by an attentive Dobby to show I still had my magic. Here's another thing the books got wrong because Ginevra left a hole in her outline. I knew well, even back at the end of second year, that house elves share symbiotic relationships with their masters. They rely on the magic of wizards to keep themselves stable. If a house elf is unbound for a prolonged amount of time, their magic becomes dangerous and they grow to be quite insane. Winky is only a more mild example of this sad fact. So, in light of this, I bound Dobby to the house of Potter posthaste. Hermione never bothered to learn the reasons why before jumping into her SPEW thing with both feet. Speaking of her, at that moment, she was staring at me with an open mouth.

"I... Jacintha... I'm so..." she started but I cut her off.

"Maybe you'll be able to form your _own_ opinions from now on, Hermione Jean Granger, instead of basing them off rumours, books, and logic. You said that some wizards don't have enough of the latter; I think you have too much. Chew on that." the words from my mouth didn't come out cold but they sounded exasperated, even to my own ears. Hermione blushed and looked down in shame. With one final look at her, I grabbed my mirror, a Muggle pen, and a spiral notebook from my nightstand drawer before closing my bed's curtains. Deciding I'd rather write to my relatives first, I opened the notebook and began composing the letter.

Dear Aunt Tuney, Uncle Vern, and Cousin D:

Hello from Hogwarts again. Well, my Halloween luck continues for the fifteenth straight Halloween in a row. That's got to be a world record, right? Anyway, tonight was the drawing of the Triwizard Tournament champions from the so-called Goblet of Fire. I don't even have to tell you, do I? That's right. I've been selected as Hogwarts's second champion. To make it more bothersome, I got the walk of shame as I went up to the head table. Ron called me a traitor and Ernie McMillan spat on the boots I got for my birthday.

I'm telling you now that the kid gloves are off. I'm sick and tired of dealing with all the insanity that comes with attending a nuthouse like Hogwarts. This is the last straw. I'm going to excel in class, I'm going to do my best in the tournament, I'm going to be myself, and I'm going to talk to my own damn _cousin_ in public. I hope that I'm making the right decision here. If I don't eventually shed the mask of the golden Gryffindor girl-who-lived, it'll be just as bad as if I really _were_ so stupid in naive. This is the right time, I'm certain of it. I wouldn't be surprised if Pansy sheds her simpering Slytherin persona, either. She looked pretty pissed off at the headmaster tonight. So did Neville, Luna, and Blaise.

You're gonna love this, all three of you. I actually spoke to the hall and stated my innocence while saying I didn't have to justify myself. I also called them all fickle and something like butt-scratching baboons. You're _really_ going to love this, Dudley. I gave the lot the one-finger salute followed by a pissed off Potter hair flip, as you put it. I know you'd rather I have restricted it to the hair flip, Auntie, like you say Mum did when she was annoyed. But I had to add Dad in somewhere and I simply couldn't resist.

Like I said, I'm going to finish the tournament. I'll be doing all the training I can to prepare for it. Please try not to worry so much, even though I know you will. I think I'm starting to make tentative alliances with two of the champions. Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, was impressed and pretty much said she thought it was amusing how I knocked my own country down a few pegs. She's got to be at least a quarter veela. Cedric Diggory, the other Hogwarts champion from Hufflepuff house, is a really nice guy. We've played against each other in Quidditch. Hopefully, as he's head boy this year, he'll be able to get his house members to lay off me. The Durmstrang champ is that famous seeker, Viktor Krum. No alliance there. I think he was jealous that he didn't get more of the spotlight tonight. Anyway, I love and miss you and promise I'll write regularly.

With Love,

Jacie

That done, I sealed the letter in an envelope before getting up and moving over towards the window. Hermione and my other two roommates, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, were already in bed. Opening the glass paine, I whistled softly. Moments later, my faithful owl, Hedwig, came swooping through the darkness.

"Can you take this home, girl?" I asked gently as she landed on the sill and held out her leg. She snapped her beak in an annoyed fashion. "I'm sorry, of course you can." with those words, I attached the letter, gave her feathers a stroke, and launched her out the window before closing it. Sighing, I collapsed into bed, closed the curtains, and applied a silencing charm. Sirius was _not_ going to be happy about this. Grabbing the mirror, I looked into it for only a second before intoning my godfather's name. He answered after a few seconds and his grinning face immediately transitioned to a worried one when he saw the scowl I sported.

"Okay, what happened." he asked in his rarely-used no-nonsense tone.

"My Halloween luck, that's what." I ground out.

"Go on." he urged.

"The glorified sippy cup decided that it wasn't satisfied with disgorging three champions. Oh no, it decided that it'd be more fun to yuck up a fourth, namely _me."_ I huffed, blowing an arrant strand of hair off my face.

"_WHAT!"_ Sirius roared furiously, his grey eyes darkening in anger. "That no-good... the lemon-sucking... brother of a goat-fucking... wrap his beard around his... how could he let this happen!"

"Fuck if I know." I shrugged tensely.

"Language." he reprimanded half-heartedly.

"Hypocrite." I shot back.

"I had to do that for your aunt's sake. You know you're the most potty-mouthed fourteen-year-old girl I ever met?"

"Am not. Mum was worse, Aunt Petunia said so." I retorted. "Plus, my last name _is_ POT ter

"Oh, bad joke, flower-bud." Sirius moaned in mock disappointment.

"I know, I know." I grinned. "But not finding something to laugh about this evening was just about killing me."

"Yeah." Sirius sighed. "What are you going to do, Jacintha? Even at your full potential, you're still only a fourth year student and the others are at least in their sixth."

"Seventh, all of them. Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, is the other Hogwarts champion."

"Oooh, don't you mean _dishy_ Diggory?" Sirius teased.

"Shut up, Padfoot. That was last year I was crushing on him. Plus, he's going out with that butterfly girl... Cho. She's a fifth year prefect. Anyway, there's Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons; she's definitely part veela." I continued. Sirius wolf-whistled. "Don't let her catch you doing that. It wouldn't surprise me if she's got a temper hot enough to match her forbearer's fireballs. From Durmstrang is the big-nosed glory hog himself, Viktor Krum. He's his headmaster's little favourite."

"I'd watch out for him if I were you, Jacie. Karkaraf was a Death Eater during the first war. He ratted out some of his comrades for a reduced sentence." Sirius warned.

"Duly noted." I nodded.

"Make sure you keep me updated on what's happening there, all right?" Sirius asked, his eyes pleading.

"Sure thing, Paddy." I grinned. With that, our conversation was over.

Disabling the silencing charm, I put the mirror back where it came from and snuggled under my warm covers. I could only hope that things would turn out for the best. Despite the fact that I was finally going to be unveiling myself, I couldn't help but be nervous. It would take a moron, like Ron for instance, to not realise that someone had it in for me and that I would have to tread very carefully if I wanted to stay alive. Knowing the Potter luck, this was going to be one hell of an interesting year.

A/N the Second:

More apologies here, people, bare with me. Firstly, I do hope that the formatting is all right. I am visually impaired and usually write up my FF's on my braille notetaker. It is only when I am done that I translate the chapters from Keyword Braille (KWB) format to Microsoft Word 1997-2003 format and the computer sometimes fouls things up and I can't always tell. On the same note, please let me know if you feel that I over-embellish any of the details. It helps me as a visually impaired reader and writer to have solid details with which I can form a clear picture in my head. However, I have been told by others, including teachers, that I can often be WAY too wordy. Just be glad I wasn't writing Fan Fiction back when I was a kid; I came up with some of the strangest names. Again, sorry for the long note, which I will only leave up for awhile, and I hope you enjoy my stories


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